Watching for whales in the new year

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I doubt I’m alone in having engaged in a little new year rumination about the state of My Life. Its definitely been intensified by a decade ending, and broadened my usual end of year musings to include the past 10 years. Which frankly, is a bit much, and possibly requires a bit more emotional resilience than I typically have at this point in the post-Christmas period. 

 

But muse I have. 

 

And inevitably, I’ve gone down some rabbit holes of doom. There have been uncomfortable periods of self-recrimination and doubt. Frustration that I’m not as ‘successful’ as I ‘should’ be at my age/stage of life. Financial anxiety has reared its ugly and unwelcome head: a not entirely uncommon experience for anyone walking the tightrope of self-employment. I’ve pondered if I’m being foolish pursuing this lifestyle. ‘Should’ I be more steady/responsible/mainstream in the way I live this one and precious life. And yes, the tension in that last sentence is entirely deliberate. 

 

In my less confident moments, I can go to town on myself for my life choices – really berate myself for choosing a lifestyle that doesn’t prioritise financial security in the ways society tells me I ‘should’. And I can enter into some cracking internal dialogue where I argue with myself about my rationale for living the way I do. I stamp my foot and tell my inner critic that I value my sanity over everything else. That I want time and space in my life to think a thought and occasionally take a beat that isn’t about taking care of anybody else. That I want my children to have a mother who is more peaceful and less frazzled. Who smiles more than she frowns. 

 

And all of those things are true.

 

I want all of those things. 

 

And they’re at the heart of much of the decision making I did during the last decade. 

 

But when my fear has gained control, and has got a hold of my heart and soul, that rationale sounds little more than a petulant child trying to argue back to an adult who holds all the power. The petulant child might be making an excellent point, but the point evaporates in the power imbalance. My heartfelt truths about my life choices sound (and feel) weak in the face of the abundant ‘shoulds’, and my imagined notions of what ‘success’ looks like for a 42 year old mother of 3 school aged children.

 

It’s a mess while it lasts. 

 

But mercifully, it’s not a permanent state of affairs. 

 

As my online yoga teacher says: “no feeling is final”. So true, and such a bleeding relief to be reminded of that. And once the fear-based angsting has played itself out, and I have exercised enough self-care to stop feeding it morsels of self-doubt and despair, a tiny sliver of light pokes through the clouds. This time, in the form of an apparently innocuous Instagram post which reminded me that not everything that happens can be seen

 

And that statement was the balm my soul needed. 

 

I have soothed myself with this truth many times before. If I was minded to, I could probably uncover a blog post (or two) where I’ve loved on that message in years gone by.

 

And because I am flawed and human and always evolving and never done, I forgot. I forgot that I don’t have to make everything happen myself. I forgot that I can’t actually find the answer to Life through a series of google searches. I forgot that so much of the good in my life has come when I’ve been able to let go, and allow things to unfold as they need to. That so much of the time, magic happens in spite of my planning and efforts. 

 

Don’t get me wrong, planning and effort enable me to function in society, get myself and my kids places and have a roof over our heads. I’m not throwing it out the window. But apparently I need reminding this new year that that’s only part of the picture. That there’s also a less tangible, more mysterious kind of activity happening below the surface. 

 

If you’ve ever gone whale watching, it can seem like nothing is going on out at sea – and that you’ve possibly wasted time and money on a boat trip. You gaze out at the surface of the water and start doubting that anything’s going on under there at all. 

 

Until it is. 

 

The surface of the water breaks. A whale, or even better whales, are revealed. Huge. Breath taking. 

 

Suddenly the world looks different. 

 

You’re completely awestruck. Amazed by the enormous, graceful sea creatures that were invisible for so long.

 

You get the point I’m making. 

 

If, like me, you find yourself staring at an apparently empty sea this new year - know that you’re not alone. 

 

You’re welcome to join me on my boat - gazing out at the water, unsure when we’re going to be wowed by something magnificent emerging from the deep. We can chat while we wait. We can remind each other that the moment will and does (eventually) come.

 

We can remind ourselves that when it does come, it is always worth the wait.